


Taking On The World

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Community: sentinel_thurs, Gen, Sentinel Thursday, Sort Of, subversion of the sentinel-guide trope you may not like this, there is some dark here you may not like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 03:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20202979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: The thing about a world where sentinels are known? Reality isn't always what it seems to be, not when you look beneath the surface.PLEASE read the note at the beginning of the story first! Many people will NOT LIKE this fic. At all. (The concept is dark and stages a coup against a beloved trope.)





	Taking On The World

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sentinel Thursday challenge 633: "contradiction"
> 
> Fair warning to Sentinel-And-Guide trope lovers – I know you vastly outnumber, well, _me, _who (mostly) plays for the other team: This fic decided to contradict the biggest thing it could think of to contradict in TS-land (except for partner betrayal :-)), and it therefore does its solemn best to knock a big ol' hole in the bottom of that trope boat and throw a few sticks of TNT into the boat for good measure. With the fuses lit.
> 
> Sadly, I feel no remorse for this. :-) Still, enter at your own risk.

Eli was already there, sitting on the tiny park's only bench, when Blair walked past the weathered cedar sign at the edge of the parking area. 

_High Point Park. _He'd chosen the park because it was off the beaten track and a good place for a private meeting, not because of its name. But the irony of that name was impossible to ignore when what he was about to do was likely to result in some seriously _low _points in his career. And/or life in general. 

Blair fortified himself with a couple of deep breaths and kept walking. A dozen steps later he was standing in front of the bench. Eli didn't look up at him; he kept staring straight ahead, past Blair, like he couldn't tear his gaze away from the scenery. It _was _nice scenery -- the park was perched on a high cliff surrounded on three sides by the Pacific -- but Blair was pretty sure Eli wasn't actually paying much attention to the view. 

His shoulders were a little stooped -- too much time behind a desk, he'd always told Blair -- which didn't really say anything. But the faint tremor of his hands did, as he smoothed the cover of the thesis he was holding in his lap. And the way he _kept _smoothing it, almost as if he wanted to brush away all the words it contained and what they meant. 

Blair squeezed his eyes shut. Everything about this sucked. And Eli -- and other people Blair cared about -- were probably going to get caught in one hell of a backlash. A totally undeserved backlash. 

Eli's voice snapped Blair's eyes open. "Now I understand why you've been so unforthcoming to your committee about your work," he said, still staring out towards the ocean and not looking at Blair. "And to me as well."

Blair grimaced. He'd hated keeping Eli in the dark. "It wasn't that I don't trust you, Eli, but I had to protect --"

Eli raised a hand, interrupting. "No, no, I see that. You had no choice under the circumstances." His other hand kept on smoothing the binder in his lap. "Your thesis contradicts decades of published research and experiential data. Even more challengingly, of course, it contradicts beliefs that have become a firmly established global societal norm over the decades since Burton's observations were proven to have modern parallels." He pursed his lips. "Perhaps I should amend my choice of verbs. 'Debunk' comes to mind. Or 'overthrow.'"

His eyes lifted for the first time to Blair's face and his gaze narrowed searchingly. "I won't ask if you're certain about your data and the conclusions you've drawn, Blair, but are you sure you want to publish this? You're far too intelligent not to have a thorough grasp of the potential ramifications if you release this information."

"Potential ramifications as in the category-five shitstorm this is going to stir up? Whether or not anybody even believes me?" Eli had always had a gift for understatement, and Blair found himself smiling ruefully. "I know what I have to do, Eli. I can't let the potential ramifications stop me."

Eli sighed. "You're committed to going public immediately, then, rather than submitting privately to your committee."

"Half my committee's got ties to the GSO; at best they'd just find a way to sit on everything until they can manufacture a convincing way to discredit it. If I go public right away, the GSO doesn't get a head start on covering its ass."

"Guide and Sentinel Oversight." A thin, unfamiliar edge of contempt colored Eli's voice, which Blair's thesis had to be responsible for. 

Which meant Eli wasn't just being open-minded or polite. Eli believed in his findings, in his work. In him. Eli _believed _in him. The relief made Blair's knees feel shaky. 

"Guide and Sentinel Oversight," Eli repeated. "They're not going to take this lying down, of course. They're too heavily invested in the status quo they've created."

Blair grimaced. "And backdoor corporate politics is too heavily invested in the GSO to take it lying down, either. I know. Welcome to the jungle."

"Indeed," Eli said. He gave Blair a regretful smile. "I was looking forward to finally being able to address you as Dr. Sandburg, my boy. You're going to great lengths to remain ABD."

The breeze blew a strand of hair across Blair's face, and he tucked it behind his ear. "It's just a doctorate, Eli. I have to do this."

"Yes, I suppose you do," Eli said, "knowing you as I do. You've always had the courage of your convictions. Perhaps too much, sometimes."

Too much? There was no such thing as _too much, _not about this. Blair flung his hands wide and all but exploded. "The GSO's virtually _enslaving _them, Eli! I can't just sit around and let them keep conditioning sentinels to believe they're pathologically dependent on 'guides' to make effective use of their senses -- and just to fucking _survive._" He ran his hands through his hair and tried to speak more calmly. "Not to mention the more covert uses they coopt selected sentinels for once they've gotten them under the control of their so-called guides."

"Yes, well, 'handlers' might be a more appropriate term, under the circumstances you outline." Eli blew out a deep, sorrowful-sounding breath. "The horrified humanitarian in me would like to say this is impossible, Blair, but I've become a bit of a cynic in recent years, and your documentation is both impressive and convincing. Which I'm afraid won't stop the powers that be from labeling you a conspiracy theorist, at the very least." 

"I'm prepared for that. As much as it's possible for me to be prepared, anyway. I have to _try, _Eli." 

Eli nodded slowly. Then he chuckled, although his expression looked more like chagrin than amusement. "You know, I've often thought the academic world pulled one over on the GSO, stealing you away. You would have made a magnificent guide yourself. Not the sort of guide you document here, of course, but the propagandized version that's been held up to the world as a paragon of empathy and genetically encoded special skills."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, brainwashing people is a special skill, all right."

"Brainwashing." Eli closed his eyes for a moment, his expression more grim than Blair had ever seen it. "You have evidentiary documentation of _brainwashing _being condoned at the highest levels. Highly advanced, comprehensive, and ruthless behavioral and sensory conditioning applied to all genetically identified sentinels, starting before the onset of puberty..." His words trailed off, and he sat in silence for a few moments, staring off into space. 

Blair still found it hard to believe himself, even after all the proof he'd spent the past couple of years collecting. Anger bled through his voice. "They take this incredible gift sentinels are born with and twist it, distort it, so they can control the way those gifts are used."

Eli roused himself, his expression softening to sadness. "Yet so many sentinels do irreplaceable work in medical fields, in law enforcement, in search and rescue..." He seemed to get lost in his thoughts again. Blair couldn't blame him.

"Those sentinels do incredible good, yeah," he said. "But they're also providing unwitting cover for other sentinels who've been forced into industrial and political espionage, even into wetwork." 

He had to swallow a sudden upwelling of bile. _Wetwork. _ It was a moment before he could go on. "And no matter what, the ends _can't _justify the means -- even if none of the covert crap was happening, those sentinels aren't _free. _They've been conditioned to do whatever their guides tell them -- and to believe they can't function at all, can't handle even basic sensory processing, without those guides. _Nothing _can justify that."

"No," Eli agreed. He still looked sad. His eyes met Blair's squarely. "You realize that you're not just taking on the GSO, of course. 'Sentinel and Guide' is a concept beloved of the public in general. A myth brought to life, as it were."

Blair almost rolled his eyes. _Blair Sandburg, Mythbusters 'R' Us. _"But the truth is _better _ than the myth, Eli," he said. "Okay, maybe it's not as 'romantic,' but it also doesn't fence two human beings into an essentially non-consensual and glamorized codependent relationship, which is exactly what a sentinel-guide relationship _would _be if the GSO propaganda were actually true."

"But sentinels do benefit from having trained, non-sentinel partners." Eli tapped the cover of the thesis. "Chapter Seven."

"A partner provides backup, yeah, especially during more challenging situations. But all sentinels really _have _to have is solid training on how to manage and use their senses themselves." Blair couldn't quite suppress a smile. "And the willingness to embrace their senses and not be pig-headed jackasses about understanding who they are and learning what they need to know."

Eli ignored Blair's last sentence, frowning. "The GSO's manipulations and chicanery, the brainwashing, the hallowed 'Guide Voice' turning out to be nothing more than a specific tonal register which serves as a posthypnotic trigger compelling compliance in a conditioned sentinel..." He shook his head. "Convincing the public of all this will be an uphill battle, my boy."

"I know," Blair said, looking down at the thesis he'd built on a rock-solid foundation of sources and subjects and witnesses. "But I'll have help."

++++++++++++++++++

Blair walked Eli to his elderly Range Rover and watched him drive off. He leaned against the Beetle. "That was fun. _Not,_" he muttered, staring down at his battered Nikes.

"A 'pig-headed jackass,' Chief? I'm hurt."

The voice came from behind him, and Blair turned and grinned across the sun-faded orange roof of the Volkswagen at the man now standing beside the passenger door. "With the attention span of a gerbil; don't forget that one, Jim."

Jim laughed. "Says the neo-hippie witch-doctor punk."

By that time he'd had walked around the Beetle to join Blair, and Blair thwacked his arm lightly with the back of his hand. "The neo-hippie witch-doctor punk you tried to put through a wall the second time you met him, you mean?"

"That's the one." Jim sobered and glanced at the park and its surroundings. "Coast was clear, Chief. Nobody overheard your talk with Eli except for a few squirrels."

"Which means I'm still on for tomorrow. For the press conference." Blair took in a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous energy jittering just underneath his skin.

"Which means _we're _still on for tomorrow." Jim leaned back again the car beside Blair. "All of us."

'All of us.' Him and Jim. Alex. The handful of other sentinels he'd found who'd slipped through the GSO's nets. Who'd proved his theories to be right. Who were _free. _Completely online, functioning at extraordinarily high levels, and _free._

And who were about to take on the GSO. And the world.

"You're not turning into some kind of spineless goober here on me, Chief, are you?" Jim said, his voice teasing as he knocked his shoulder against Blair's.

It was probably the ex-Ranger in Jim, or the current MCU detective. Or maybe it was just Jim himself, projecting all that calm confidence and strength. Blair shifted a little to nudge Jim's shoulder in reciprocal solidarity and felt his jitters begin to ease.

"No way, man," he said. "We're doing this."

And they were. Tomorrow, they were taking on the world.

**Author's Note:**

> _Notes for any brave souls still trudging gamely forward to the grim end:_ :-))
> 
> 1\. Some of the inspiration for this comes from Gregg Hurwitz's Orphan X thrillers, the most recent two of which not only furnish my otherwise unwilling mind with glorious conspiracies, but are so perfectly written they actually make me want to write more too. 
> 
> 2\. I have a killer debunking of “bonding” for this particular universe, but I spared you and didn't include it. Not out of altruism, but because the tech hadn't been invented yet in the 90's (and hey, realism :-)) and because the fic was already belligerently top-heavy – or is that pear-shaped – with all the info dump. 
> 
> 3\. I still feel no remorse. (But I'm kind of glad y'all don't know where I live... :-))


End file.
